


Shock and awe

by neela



Category: Murder Call (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Romance, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:16:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neela/pseuds/neela
Summary: There was blood on his trembling hands. Set post-series.





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. They belong to Jennifer Rowe, Hal McElroy and Southern Star. I make no profit out of this.

**Prompts:** 006\. Hours

* * *

**Part 1**

  
There was blood on his trembling hands. Steve stared at them, still in shock, then turned his head to see the large pool of red fluid on the ground a few feet away. So much of it. It’d spilled over his hands even as he’d applied enough pressure to stop the circulation in his own fingers.  
  
“Here you go, son.” Awkwardly, Thorne put a hand on his shoulder and held out a bundle of paper towels with the other. “Better wipe it off. We’re trying to find some fresh clothes for you too.”  
  
The words wouldn’t quite register. Steve mechanically took the paper towels, but he couldn’t get his hands to stop shaking. His lungs didn’t work properly, his head was spinning, and he watched everything as if through a thick curtain of rain.  
  
One of the crime scene forensic crew was putting down an evidence marker next to the pool of blood. Another went next to a scattered pile of spent bullets nearby. Then a bloody knife. Elsewhere, someone was snapping photos of two motionless bodies. The bright flash hurt his eyes, making his eyes water. More forensic crew appeared, putting things into evidence bags and cataloguing them. Fisk, Steve realised, was approaching him with two large ones.  
  
“On your feet, son.” Thorne nudged him gently, practically helping him up from his paralysed position. The seasoned Inspector gestured to his office. “Let’s find you some privacy.”  
  
Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the pool of blood, the paper towels clenched tightly in his still sticky hands. He strained his neck to look back all until Thorne had closed the door, leaving Steve and Fisk alone together in Thorne’s office.  
  
“Hayden,” Fisk said evenly, clearly trying to regain his focus. His expression was professional. Or was it? Did he see some waver in Fisk’s gaze as he surveyed the stains on Steve’s suit and shirt? “I’m afraid you’ll have to take them off. Shoes too.”  
  
His hands were bloody, Steve realised again. He tried to pat away the stickiness with the paper towels, then let Fisk take them away before removing his clothes, one item at a time. It barely felt real, though. For each, Fisk slipped them into his large evidence bags, already tagged, with barely a change in his expression. As if this was just another crime scene, another set of victims, another perpetrator like any other.  
  
Except it wasn’t. This was  _home_. This was  _his_  people. That pool of blood belonged to  _his_  partner. It wasn’t another case. And as he realised that, Steve felt his chest begin to heave, struggling to get enough oxygen. He gasped, an inhuman sound, and forgot all about taking off his sullied clothes.  
  
“She’ll be all right, Hayden, just breathe.” Fisk’s hand was on his shoulder, his voice still even, still professional. “Deep breaths. Come on now. Sit down. Deep, even breaths. She’ll be all right.” The voice grew extremely quiet, a slight waver in it as the hand on his shoulder grabbed it tightly. “She’ll be all right.”  
  
Half-mindedly following the senior sergeant’s instructions, Steve looked down at his hands again. He saw how they’d wrenched aside her jacket, how they’d pushed down on the stomach wound, and how they’d felt so completely useless. The blood had just kept spilling past his fingers. Her face had turned white and her eyes had rolled almost to the back of her head. For a moment, she’d stopped breathing.  
  
Steve couldn’t hold it back anymore. He broke down on Thorne’s couch with Fisk’s hand clenching his shoulder tightly.

* * *

  
The world was a painless, befuddled place. Tessa’s eyes opened, winced at the sharp light, and closed again. Sound was dulled. All she could grasp was that there was motion around her and something sticking into her nose. She tried to raise her hand to bat it away, but her body wouldn’t respond. It was so heavy. Like an anchor pulling her down into the ocean deep.  
  
Someone kept her back, though. She felt a weight on her hand, encompassing it fully in a tight squeeze. Two hands, both larger than hers. Warm. Comforting.  
  
“-ssa.” Someone was caressing her cheek now. Same warmth, same comfort. It beckoned to her, called her home.  
  
Tiredly, Tessa opened her eyes again. The light was dimmed, but a face began to appear in the fog. A male face. Wide eyes. Creased eyebrows. Tense lip. It was leaning close to her, she realised, and it belonged to the hand covering hers.  
  
When their gazes finally met, a smile broke out on his face. He didn’t seem to be able to stop himself. He leaned forward with a soft kiss to her forehead and the muttered “Oh sweetheart” on his lips.  
  
Tessa leaned into his warmth and swallowed, trying to speak, but her throat wouldn’t work properly. Only guttural sounds came out, and he quickly hushed her with another kiss and a squeeze of her hand.  
  
“Just take it easy,” he said quietly as he caressed her cheek and brushed back her hair with his soft palm. “No need to rush it. You’re on some pretty strong pain medication.”  
  
“I’m—” she managed before needing to cough, causing the nasal cannula to scrape the insides of her nostrils and start itching. She couldn’t raise her hand, though, and frowned uncomfortably for a moment. After the itch passed, she returned her gaze to Steve and blinked tiredly. “What—?”  
  
“You’re in hospital,” Steve whispered, his face really close to hers, his voice tender. It confused her. Why was he like that? What had happened? “You were shot and you’ve had surgery. But you’ll be fine now.” He squeezed her hand again, his voice almost hoarse. “You’re going to be fine, Tess.”  
  
“Stv…” She didn’t manage to say his name properly, but he leaned closer even so, his caresses doubled.  
  
“Just take it easy,” he said again. “Get some sleep. I’ll be here.”  
  
For some reason, she didn’t question that again. Instead, the weight pulled her down into the ocean deep and she was off.

* * *

Steve stared at his now clean hands as he waited for the coffee machine to finish brewing his cup. They didn’t feel right. _He_  didn’t feel right. Which was strange, because he’d never been this affected before. Not since he’d been shot three years ago, and at the time he’d been the victim. He wasn’t the victim now, and yet…he didn’t feel right.

  
Shaking his head, he took his cup of coffee and drifted back down the sterile corridors where the stench of antiseptics caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. He hated that smell, even before he’d been shot. He hated the fact that there hadn’t been a year yet where he could’ve avoided the smell altogether. One way or another, he’d wound up back here.  
  
This time was the worst. Hours had felt like days. Maybe even weeks. The chairs in the waiting room had been harder than usual. The antiseptic smell had been stronger than before. The coffee was even more tasteless than last time. He drank two sips and then deposited it in a nearby trashcan, grimacing.  
  
And he kept going back to his hands. To the sight of blood on them. To the white face just to his right. To the terrible, excruciating, heart-breaking feeling that every spilled drop was taking her further away from him. That  _this_ time, she’d actually—  
  
 _No._  
  
He couldn’t torture himself like this. Steve balled his hands into fists and let his fingernails dig into his palms. His jaw clenched, his teeth gnashed against each other. His neck was taut as a wire and so was he. His paces became brisker until he stalked down the corridor and didn’t know where he was anymore.  
  
So there, in a corner of an unknown corridor of an unknown ward, he let his frustration out on a piece of wall. He restrained a yell, but he punched the wall until the skin of his knuckles split and the sight of blood snapped him out of it. Then, forcing his hammering heart and heaving breaths under control, he stalked back until he found familiar ground and sat in the darkness of Tessa’s ICU room until he was chased out at the end of visiting hours by one of the nurses.  
  
The nurse took pity on him and bandaged his knuckles without asking any questions. Steve wondered if that made him an open book. He’d always been a closed one. And he knew the significance of this. Knew he’d overstepped some invisible lines earlier when Tessa had regained consciousness for a little while.  
  
And he knew a part of him hoped that Tessa wouldn’t forget it in her pain medication-induced haze. He knew he wanted to do it again. Over and over again. As long as she wanted him to.  _If_  she wanted him to.

* * *

Tessa couldn’t explain it, but she knew something had changed. Not the incident that’d landed her here or the gunshot wound, nor the walking-on-eggshells or mother-hen appearance of Tootsie, Dee, Fisk and Thorne.  
  
No,  _Steve_  was the one who’d changed. The look in his eyes when she caught him staring at her. The quickness with which he turned his head away. The awkwardness in which he stood next to her bed, hands dug deep in his pockets. He looked as if he’d lost something, as if he wanted something, and Tessa didn’t know how to respond to that.  
  
There was a vague sensation that she should know, but whenever she saw him, she became so embarrassed. She could barely hold his gaze, make jokes with him, or act anything like her usual self. It felt like the time he’d been shot and yet not exactly the same. She’d felt guilty back then, and she thought maybe he felt guilty now, but it didn’t feel like the whole truth.  
  
All she knew was that it was a hunch, and usually her hunches panned out…but she didn’t know what that meant in this case.  
  
“Steve,” she eventually tried during his fourth visit, after a long awkward silence that felt thicker than concrete. “There’s nothing to feel guilty about. You know that, right?” She tilted her head up, almost scared to meet his gaze. “No one could’ve foreseen this, and we did the best we could under the circumstances.”  
  
Steve stood staring out through the window, his gaze faraway and distant. In mere seconds, though, his expression hardened and he pulled away from the window to step closer to her bed.  
  
“I know.” His voice low, his deep dark orbs finally met her eyes, which caused her heart to skip a beat. “I know, Tess.”  
  
Tessa’s eyes welled up with unshed tears. “So what is it?”  
  
He didn’t answer, looking conflicted.  
  
“There’s something on your mind. It’s weighing you down, I can see it.” Tessa attempted a smile, but it trembled and broke when Steve looked down at his hands with a heavy unspoken sigh. “If it’s about me… I’m fine now.” She hesitated, not sure whether her hunch was right. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
Steve looked up at her and the emotions swirling in his eyes drove the breath out of her chest. The atmosphere crackled with energy. It felt thick, electrifying, and Tessa became light-headed. Her heart beat faster, her hands began to tremble inexplicably, but she couldn’t pull her gaze away from his. He fixed her in place…until he reached out with an uncertain hand, its knuckles bruised and red, and brushed away an errant lock of hair.  
  
Her heart jumped. Hardly breathing, Tessa watched him watch her, her trembles increasing in strength until she was shivering all over.  
  
Warmth. Comfort. Safe…  
  
Closing her eyes, blood pounding in her veins, Tessa leaned into his palm and nuzzled her nose against his hot skin.  
  
“I thought I’d lost you,” Steve whispered, his voice strangely strangled. She felt him move, the electric current in the air intensifying, and her eyes fluttered open to see him and only him. “I don’t want to feel that way again. I—”  
  
He swallowed visibly, licking his lips, and Tessa found herself licking hers too. His gaze snapped down to the innocuous action and she felt as if a heatwave crashed over her. Before she fully realised what was happening, he’d leaned down and brushed his lips across hers.  
  
Just a gentle brush, slightly open-mouthed, expelling hot air and uncertainty that overpowered the senses that’d been dulled by pain medication. But she was like a magnet. As he began to pull away, she went with him and let her lips linger slightly longer, just to draw it out. After a moment, their gazes met and Tessa licked her lips again.  
  
Perhaps it was enough as an invitation. Steve leaned down again, adding more pressure this time, and Tessa felt her hands sneak up his neck to the back of his head to guide him. Gradually, her confidence grew and she pushed back, the softness of his lips intoxicating her, each kiss assuring her that this felt right. This was what was supposed to happen. And Steve’s hesitance disappeared too, and his fingers curled around her jaw, trailing slowly down her neck, digging gently into her skin.  
  
It felt like hours, but was probably merely minutes or less. Tessa was all flushed and hot when they finally drew apart, and though she didn’t pull him back for another kiss, she couldn’t let go of him. He had to sit down, her hand caressing his five o’clock shadow, his brushing softly across her other hand, their eyes locked.  
  
“So what now?” She finally asked, her voice hushed.  
  
“Now…I should probably take you on a date.” A slightly shy smile crossed his lips. “A proper one.”  
  
Tessa smiled. “Sounds like a plan."


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outside perspectives on Tessa and Steve's budding relationship. Set post-series.

**Title:**  Shock and awe  
 **Prompt:**  005. Outsides

* * *

**Part 2**

  
Really, she was just going to pop in and out. Five minutes max, just on her way to dinner with Lance. It wouldn’t take that long. She knew visiting hours would be over by the time they’d finished dinner, so she’d wanted to take this little moment to check in on Tessa, see how she was, and promise to come back for a longer visit tomorrow.  
  
Of all the things she could’ve expected from walking in unannounced to Tessa’s room, though, _this_ hadn’t been on the list. She stopped short, her mouth opened in a half-uttered ‘hello’, and blinked her eyes a few times before quickly taking a step back. Any sense of decorum and decency would’ve had her retreat fully, but…she couldn’t help it. She needed to sneak a peek just to confirm she hadn’t seen wrong.  
  
Steve and Tessa were kissing. A very gentle, sweet kiss by the looks of it, and it was just as clear that they had no idea she’d been about to burst in on it all and probably cause them to jump apart like two teenagers caught in the act. They were completely cut off from the rest of the world.  
  
Tootsie felt her expression, previously tense with worry, break into a wide grin. Her chest felt lighter, a thrill of exhilaration spreading through her body. For some reason, she almost wanted to do a little dance. She couldn’t quite explain it; she cared for both of them dearly, but they’d danced around each other for so many years that she’d given up on ever seeing them together.  
  
 _But maybe now…_  
  
Sneaking another peek, Tootsie saw the kiss had come to an end, with Steve seated on the edge of Tessa’s bed and her hand caressing his cheek. The softest, most wondrous expression Tootsie had seen in a while was on Tessa’s face. A blushing smile replaced it at something Steve said, something she couldn’t hear from out in the corridor, and Tootsie smiled too.  
  
Her five minutes were up, but she didn’t care. Tessa was in good hands. Maybe even the best of hands. Leaving the bouquet of flowers she’d brought at the nurse’s desk, with instructions to give to Tessa when she was ‘available’, Tootsie left the hospital.  
  
And when Lance asked her why she never stopped smiling that night, she just gave him a mysterious smile in return.

* * *

  
Fisk wasn’t a man of grandiose gestures and a particularly well-developed sensual life, although Imogen always claimed the opposite. When he looked at the world around him, he didn’t focus on the minute details of someone’s behaviour.  
  
Well, not normally. Ever since he was a child, his focus had been on his environment, not the people in it. A psychologist would probably say it stemmed from his mother leaving when he was a boy, and there was perhaps some truth to it. But that’s not all it was. He’d always been this way, as long as he could remember.  
  
He liked to watch someone’s shoes, to see the wear and tear, the blemished or unblemished leather. It was the same for someone’s clothes, cars, books, hairstyles, furniture. A well-organised room was compared to a cluttered space. A torn shirt was compared to an ironed one. A mug discoloured from years of use was compared to a paper cup. They all told a story and he wanted those stories, those mysteries. He wanted to hunt it down, to play a part in its unravelling, to find the villain at the end of the path. It’s what’d made him choose his profession.  
  
But in this job you couldn’t always get by without looking at people too, so he’d learned, adapted, and that evolution had brought him here: to contemplate what he’d seen, what he’d learned, and what sort of conclusion he could draw from that.  
  
It’d started with a new hairstyle. Continued with more frequent laughs; a freer kind. Shirts were ironed crispier than usual. The ties were a touch more colourful, a tad more vivacious. Suit pants were replaced by suit skirts that were newer, slightly less drab.  
  
Those were examples of the more indirect evidence. The direct evidence, of course, wasn’t hard facts. It was a soft tone, a gentle smile, and a silence that seemed more significant than he realised at the time. It was, for lack of a better word, a _hunch_. Fisk wasn’t comfortable with hunches, but this particular one had its basis in already established hard facts: Vance and Hayden were no longer just partners and friends.  
  
Exactly which category they belonged to, Fisk didn’t know. He’d have to gather more evidence for determining that – evidence that could be  _trusted_  and not just Suzeraine’s fanciful gossip. But he felt certain he’d get to the bottom of it eventually. Like many scientists and unlike certain pathologists and constables, he was patient. He could wait.  
  
Fisk allowed himself a small smile.  
  
Yes, he could wait.

* * *

  
She was like a dog after a bone. As soon as the possibility jumped into her head, Dee couldn’t let it go.  
  
She pestered Tessa about it. Pestered Steve about it too. Tried to catch them in the act, to disprove their lies, but they were a couple of sneaky bastards. Steve was a stone when he got a mind to it. Tessa would’ve usually caved by now, but she hadn’t, which Dee supposed meant something.  
  
But she had a plan now. A fool-proof one. And all it needed was their annual Christmas gathering at the bar and some well-chosen words to the owner.  
  
“You can’t back out now!” Dee was grinning, a gleam in her eyes. “Everyone else’ve done it. You don’t wanna break tradition.”  
  
“A stupid tradition,” Tessa muttered below her breath, and made as if to leave the spot Dee had more or less pushed her into. To Dee’s delight, however, Tessa was held back by Steve, who looked just a little too relaxed and thrilled for someone still keeping things under wrap (according to Tootsie).  
  
“’s probably not so bad,” Steve said, a grin on his face.  
  
“That’s right,” Dee agreed wholeheartedly, and the people closest to them roared in agreement too. Tessa blushed heavily, clearly annoyed and bothered by the amount of attention they were getting, but Dee didn’t care. “So pucker up, buttercup!”  
  
Tessa rolled her eyes and turned decisively to Steve, who already stood ready with a wide grin that turned into overdramatically puckered-up lips. With a slight groan, Tessa grabbed hold of his shoulders and pushed herself up on her toes so she could give him a quick peck on the lips.  
  
“Noo,” Dee yelled good-naturedly, “do a proper one!”  
  
Tessa glared at her and Dee was thrilled to see that Steve didn’t. In fact, he was grinning wider than ever and suddenly swooped Tessa down into a low dip to kiss her like he actually meant it.  
  
“That’s it!” Dee whooped and the others chimed in, the volume increasing when they noticed Tessa holding on for dear life – and then kissing Steve back like _she_  meant it.  
  
Coming up for air and balance both, Tessa and Steve didn’t seem to have eyes for anyone else for a moment until Tessa sent another glare back at Dee and then deliberately stepped away from the radius of the mistletoe.  
  
Judging by the number of times Steve’s hand was touching Tessa’s lower back that night and the equal number of times Tessa blushed, though, Dee counted her mission as a success and decided to back down.  
  
For now.

* * *

  
There’d been times in the past when he’d wondered. Sometimes, he’d even tried to probe very gently to see if there was something hiding beneath the surface, but up until now, he’d never found any cause for concern. Friendship and partners, that’d been all there was to it. There’d been rough spots, sure, and moments when he’d worried he’d lose one of his detectives to the darkness of this work, or at least that he’d have to reassign them to other partners.  
  
Things were different now. Thorne wasn’t ignorant. The way his best Detective Sergeant had reacted to his partner being shot, and then how they’d both behaved afterwards… It’d been a far cry from their behaviour during that art gallery case half a year ago. He’d thought it’d only be a matter of time, and he’d been right. Being right wasn’t always a blessing, though.  
  
Peering up at his two detectives above the rim of his glasses, Thorne chewed the inside of his cheek. “I will have to reassign you.”  
  
It was the local policy. The brass didn’t want any conflicts of interests, or any domestic disputes interfering with the job. Although Thorne felt sure Homicide currently had a bit of leeway considering the losses and trauma they’d experienced four months back, he wasn’t sure this was a cause to try it out on. There were other things higher on his list of priorities, such as overtime pay.  
  
“We know,” Steve said evenly, his hands settled calmly behind his back. He exuded only professionalism. Thorne knew that whatever decision he landed on, Steve would respect it. As he should, too, considering it’d taken them months to come clean to him.  
  
“You should have come to me with this before,” Thorne said, folding his hands together, his gaze steady on both of them.  _Maybe I could’ve helped you._  
  
“We know and we’re sorry, sir.” Tessa wasn’t as calm as Steve, and yet she wasn’t as nervous as he’d sometimes seen her over the years. If anything, it told him that this was serious business, not some casual fling.  
  
“All right.” Thorne let out a little sigh and looked down at the paperwork he’d been working on before they came to see him. “Go back to your case. I’ll call you when I have news for you.”  
  
Perhaps he should’ve yelled at them. They looked like they’d expected that. They also looked like this had stung more than his bark. Sharing a wary look, Tessa and Steve excused themselves and left his office. Once the door was shut, Thorne looked up and peered through the blinds to see them return to their desks.  
  
No inappropriate touches. No deviance from the routine they’d acquired over the years. All in all, it seemed just like business as usual. He supposed he should be happy with that, but he wasn’t. They were his best team, the ones with the highest rate of solved cases, and they knew each other inside-out. They’d tried some other partners on occasion, but no one had clicked like those two. And now he had to break them up.  
  
Thorne sighed again, then sat back in his chair, fingers stapled together beneath his chin, deep in thought.

* * *

  
“We’ll be all right.” Steve pressed gentle kisses down her neck and shoulder. “We talked about this. We’re prepared.”  
  
Curling back into his embrace, Tessa sighed. “I know. It’s just… It’ll be different not working with you. I’ll miss it.”  
  
“We’re still at the same station, the same unit.” Running his hand softly down her side, Steve dragged his nose up the back of her arm and found his way back to her neck. His low reverberating voice sent comfortable shivers down her spine. “It’s not like we’re going cold turkey. We might even work together on some cases again.”  
  
Tessa hummed and closed her eyes, letting his caresses come to the forefront of her mind, pushing back the nagging worry that things would be too different in the morning. That despite their sacrifices now, things wouldn’t work out once the job got to the better of them, like it’d done before.  
  
“Tess.” She opened her eyes and craned her neck so she could look him in the eyes. Steve looked conflicted between amusement and seriousness, but once he saw her, he smiled. “It’ll be all right.” He kissed her softly on the lips, reeling her in with his sheer magnetism. “You want to get some sleep instead?”  
  
“No,” Tessa said, rolling onto her back so she could put a palm on his chest and play with the few hairs she found there. She smiled, relishing how he made her bold, confident, safe. As if she could do anything and it’d be okay. “Not tonight.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Steve’s voice was soft. Gentle. Warm and comforting. Just like it’d been that day when he’d kissed her for the first time.  
  
His actions matched it.  
  
His eyes stayed locked with hers the entire time. Electrifying. Magnifying. Pulling her into the deep with him, then plunging her into the waves. His hips rolled slowly, deeply, dragging it out until she lost control; until she raked her nails across his back, clutched him close, and nudged him over the edge with a soft “Steve”.  
  
She loved to watch him lose control. She loved how it made her feel strong, to feel like an equal. And she loved how he snuggled close to her afterwards, as if he couldn’t get enough of her.  
  
“I love you,” she whispered into his ear, sure that he could hear how hard and fast her heart was pounding from where his head rested on her chest.  
  
Steve tipped his head up, a soft grin on his face. “I love you too, Tess.”  
  
Tessa couldn’t help match his grin and squeezed him tightly with her arms. “We’ll be okay.”  
  
Drawing a gentle kiss from her lips, Steve’s eyes twinkled. “Told you, didn’t I?”  
  
 **FIN**


End file.
